


Krylla's Imprisonment

by AwkwardNeurons



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Eberron
Genre: F/M, Minotaurs, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardNeurons/pseuds/AwkwardNeurons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krylla gets surprised by a herd of minotaurs while scouting ahead of her party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Krylla's Imprisonment

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading. Sorry for the rough formatting on this one. As I get used to the site, the stories will probably be easier to read.

The smell of the camp was already unbearable; the dawn sun only made it worse. Half a mile out she'd first noticed it. Repeatedly she warned Drungan that they should turn around. But we're the scouts, he'd replied, we have to keep going. We can handle whatever we come across. That was three days ago.  
The small solace was, at least, she had been correct. If only he'd listened.

Drungan, ever eager to prove himself, had continued to dart through the trees ahead of her. The brush was thick, and soon the sienna leather of his armor was doing its job of hiding him in the bushes. Right hand covering her mouth and nose, Krylla ran her left hand's fingers over the hilt of her stilleto. "Drun," she hissed out into the twilight. "Drun, you idiot! The smell is even stronger here, come back." She was whispering at the top of her lungs, choking back the bile building up from the musky air.  
And that's when she saw him. Drungan. He stood in a clearing not far off in a figher's stance, his bejewled longsword raised threateningly at the form of a sizable beast. A minotaur. That's what this smell is, she scolded herself for not picking it up earlier. What kind of ranger was she? But even still, this scent was too strong for just one.  
Four more hulking beastmen suddenly burst from the brush in a charge at Drungan. The lad panicked, dropping his sword and freezing like a deer caught in lantern light. His helmet, amazingly enough, survived in tact after the axe fell on his head. But it wasn't enough to keep him standing, and an uncounscious Drungan crumpled into a heep at the groups hooves. Krylla cursed under her breath and turned to run. That's when the poison dart struck her in the neck.  
She took five steps before she blacked out into the bush.

Minotaurs. She'd have spat on the ground in disgust if she wasn't dehydrated. In the more civilized parts of Khorvaire, she had no problem with their kind. Krylla'd spent many a night in a tavern, swapping stories with orc and minotaurs, laughing along side them in drunken comradery. That was Breland, though; this was Droaam. Those were cultured and learned outliers. These were brutish, tribal mercenaries.

If they don't kill me soon, the human mused, maybe the stench will. One cue a burly shadow made its way to her tent and began to relieve itself onto the fabric. Again, the human bemoaned in her head. The liquid soaked in quickly, adding to the aroma of coppery dried blood painting the dirt floor of the tent, and meats cooking outside the tent. Krylla's nostrils flared wide as the girl exhaled forceful in an attempt to combat the creeping odor. Two days ago she'd have made a move to pull her hands over her face to hide the smell; she'd tried it repeatedly before, forgetting that they were suspended abover her head in manacles.  
"Lay off the wine, biggun'," Krylla finally called out in the common tongue. If escape was out of the question, torment and annoyance until the end would suffice. A rumbling sigh of relief turns into a booming chuckle as she admonishes one of her captors. "Plenty more, human. The celebration starts tomorrow night." With that information, the shadow vanished.  
The locks were masterwork. Krylla vowed inwardly that if she made it out of here with her life, her next order of business would be to find the maker and punish him severely. Her fingers ran over the cool metal as she felt her strength leave her body once more. Hunger, sleep, and dehydration won. Krylla passed out once more.

It was calm. The clouds had rolled in over the day. Krylla watched them serenely billow towards Lake Galifar as she walked the shore. Now, in growing dusk, they had started to release their refreshing waters. She couldn't help but sigh at the perfection of the day. In the distance smoke was curling out of the chimney of her family house. Inside her mother was cooking. Her father had left to sell some goods in town, but he was due back later that night. She could just make out the forms of her twin brothers wresting near the big oak tree. All was well. Krylla stretched her weary arms above her head and sighed happily, opening her mouth to bask in the warm rain of the growing storm.

"Told you she was thirsty."  
"Hah, guess you were right. She drank it right down. Go let the rest of the men know to stop ruining the tent."  
Krylla's eyelids opened slowly. Her vision was nothing but blurs of shapes. Two big brown forms were replacing something beneath the fabric of their loincloths. Krylla didn't have to ponder hard at what they were. The first speaker turns and leaves. The other stood watching her. Liquid was trickling down her face, running into her eyes and stinging. Immediately she tried to pull her hands down to rub it out. Jingling chains and metal was all she accomplished. As soon as she inhales, Krylla begins to wretch. The smells bring her back to her right mind. Acrid, pungent liquid coated her body, head to toe. She didn't know how much, but the mud around her feet was enough to give her a clue.  
As her eyes adjusted, she saw him. An eight foot tall horror, muscles carved from marble, chestnut fur matted and dirty with mud, and she didn't even want to guess what else. Large ivory horns grew out of either side of his head. They curled, points facing forward level with his eyes. Points, eyes, and all were aimed right at Krylla. The little bit of his form that wasn't exposed was hidden behind shoddy chainmail. This was the one that had taken out Drugan.  
"You were out all afternoon," the minotaur before her speaks matter-of-factly as he brings his wineskin to his lips and takes a long pull. Watching the beast drink kicks up Krylla's thirst again. Her tongue falls out of her mouth and runs across her lips. She shivers at the taste urine soaking into her tongue. "The crew thought you looked a bit parched, so we did what we could to get you by. You won't get to eat until tomorrow, but we've got plenty for you to drink leading up to the ritual," he says with a roaring laugh as he pats at the bulge of his loincloth.  


The tent door gets pushed aside. In walks another one. "Ku-Rash said she was ready," the new minotaur droned slowly. The orginal one was taking another pull from his drink. "Certainly is," he chuckles and pats the newcomers on his shoulder on his way out. "Have a good night, human," he ominously mutters on his exit.  
As his compatriot leaves, the newcomer advances. This one didn't appear to be a warrior, standing a full foot smaller and having a seemingly thinner build than the other two. Robes covered most of his body. His jet black fur was adorned with tribal paints; blues, reds, whites, and green runes lined his face. Feathers and grasses were threaded into his dreadlocked hair. A septum piercing of bone clashed hard with his dark fur. Shaman, Krylla confirmed silently. The beast leaned down to bring his face level with Krylla's. When their eyes locked she noticed his pupils were focusing and unfocusing rapidly. Incense and burnt herbs were the only smells to radiate form his body. So far, he was her favorite captor, even if it was just because she could breath easier.  
"Ku-Rash says to begin the preparation," he bathes her face with his putrid breath of earthy notes and fruity wine. "I'm a little preoccupied," Krylla scoffs softly, the liquid on her body slowly evaporating in the heat, leaving a tacky film that only made her sweat more. The shaman says nothing in response, instead only starting to remove his volumous robes. Krylla blinks, uncomprehending. "I have brough the sacred mushrooms and herbs into my body," the beast drones as he stands up to his full height, fully nude. Krylla could see now that the paints and runes on his face ran down his entire body. His pecs and abs had stylized arrows, all of them running down to meet at his groin and sprial down the length of his bovine equipment.  
"For one week have I ingested only the sacred plants and let them ferment within me. Now it is your turn." The shaman reaches up and grabs the chains strung up along the tent. Krylla felt her hands instantly drop. Oh, the sheer pleasure she felt as the blood in her body flooded back into her arms, both of them immediately starting to itch. She'd have made a move to ease the sensation, but before she could even think of doing so the shaman had surged forward. His right hand held her chains like a leash, though she couldn't over power him even if she tried. Which is why she couldn't stop him when his left hand wrapped around her neck and brought her face down level with his spiral painted member.  
Krylla's mouth opened once more to wretch at the smell. Only the wretching was stiffled when the mystic forced himself into her open mouth. "Through the sacred plants we learn not to worry," the shaman begins to speak as the shaft of flaccid meat in the human's mouth shudders. Warm liquid spills from the tip and floods Krylla's mouth.  


Two days without water had ruined her. And Krylla hated herself as she did it, but the liquid was necessary. She needed strength. The girl began to greedily swallow. "Through the powers of the plants we find peace. Our ancestors imbibed, and grew stonger. So too do all who take part." The burning of her stomach seemed to quell slightly as the hot liquid trickled down her throat. She certainly wasn't thankful, but, whatever she had to do to bide her time and escape. Seconds passed like this, the human closing her eyes, but still seeing the beast before her in her mind. Finally, he disengages. Krylla starts to cough and sputter as the minotaur yanks his right hand down, hoisting her back onto her tiptoes and tying her hands above her.  


"May you find peace in the visions," the shaman says as he dons his robe and exits the tent.


End file.
